1-2-3 Move

Susan (left) enjoying time with her grandchild and family. 
Susan sent us this photo, commenting, “but check out the C-shaped spine—wow!”

I am a 70-year-old woman. As a young woman I was tall (5’10"), slender, and active as I would ever be raising my six children. 

For the most part, my body and I had a good relationship, but, over time and with the demands of my life, something problematic happened. My body began talking to me: my knee, psoas, sacrum, and lower back hurt, and I also suffered a loss of balance. I mainly saw a chiropractor but also physical therapists, massage therapists, and acupuncturists…the list is long. When you want to function and feel halfway decent, you try everything.

By the time I was 60, I had three fractures in my spine and a diagnosis of osteoporosis. For 10 years I worked hard to control the osteoporosis and did well rebuilding my bones, but even so, I am now 5’6", four inches shorter than I was. Perhaps it is vain to wish every day for the return of my stature, but to stand tall and straight has been a preoccupation. I tried to hide my posture under my clothes, but of course that doesn’t really work! 

Learning to stacksit gave Susan a much-improved position for her piano and organ playing.

In my thirties I started teaching piano and became a church organist. Recently, because of the pandemic, our church music has had to be prerecorded. On Sundays, when the recordings were broadcast, I saw myself seated at the organ and was astonished to see how small and bent over I was. This was not the way I had imagined myself looking. It was horrifying. I knew something had to change.

These people all have open chests and relaxed, posterior shoulders. Young children, our ancestors, 
and diverse populations in nonindustrialized areas of the world today share this healthy posture. 

In spite of the deterioration, I maintained hope of improvement. When I came across Esther Gokhale for the second time in a year, I paid attention. I was inspired by her TEDx talk, interviews, and website. There was wisdom and a depth of insight there that I had not seen before, and a pursuit of positive change that matched my own. There was something compelling in the testimonies of the Gokhale Method alumni, and Esther’s research into ancestral and primal postures. It all rang true and had evidence to back it up. I had to try the Gokhale Method.

For all my efforts and the various things I had tried, nothing up to that point had worked for me. I was afraid that Esther’s approach was not going to work either. I told myself I would give it a year. I started working with Esther and gave her my trust and commitment. I learned my new body awareness methodically through the 18 concise lessons of the Elements online program. At times I worried I would be disappointed again, but Esther’s expectation of a good outcome—combined with her integrity and tenacity—kept me moving forward. 

Susan used to tuck her pelvis and collapse her spine (left). Having learned to antevert her pelvis and 
use her inner corset (right), she now stands tall, regaining length in her torso.

An important step for me was understanding the difference between a tucked pelvis and an anteverted pelvis, and that I could make it happen in my own body. Doing the “inner corset” also made visible changes. I wasn’t bent over from fatigue by the end of the day. I was so grateful. I could be upright again, and I felt back to being myself. Previous to the Elements course, my body had become something to fear; it has now become something I take pleasure in.

So many things have gotten better. I had a tight psoas for decades, which caused pain in my groin. I don’t feel that anymore. Before if I fell asleep on my back, I would wake myself up snoring or run out of breath. That has gone. It had also been difficult to breath when walking; now all of my breathing is much better. Over the winter I have been enjoying barefoot walks along the beach, applying what I have learned about my feet. This attention is paying off and my feet are changing. A small bunion is reducing and the big toe is coming home (Esther said it probably would) while the other toes are relaxing straighter.

Cultivating kidney bean-shaped feet with strong arches helps take pressure off the delicate structures of the forefoot. Susan notices her bunion is reducing and her toes are starting to straighten.

The daily class on the 1-2-3 Move program is very important for me to maintain ongoing improvements—and it keeps me motivated. The online community helps me celebrate and practice what I have gained. I’m inspired by Esther’s beautiful visuals of healthy body alignment and architecture. 

Occasional anatomy snippets woven into the 1-2-3 Move classes 
help participants to understand their own body architecture.

Additionally, the Q&A session following each 13-minute class makes it easy to ask questions. Just last week someone asked a question about the role of rectus abdominis (the six-pack ab muscles) and a huge light shone for me; I realized how these muscles can tuck the pelvis and/or round me forward. Now I let that sort of tension go—and I can stand straighter! I’ve learned how to use my “inner corset” muscles, drawing my deeper abs in and upward like I’m going into ice-cold water. I regularly go quarry swimming, so I know exactly what that feels like!

This entire journey of finding out how my body works has been transformative for me. Best of all, the Gokhale Method has shown me how I can once again live my life upright and pain free. What a gift! 

Claudia Cummins is a yoga and meditation teacher, poet, and talented writer. Already familiar with Esther’s book and DVD, she joined the 1-2-3 Move program on Thanksgiving last year. It quickly became a favorite way to lift her spirits and do her body good throughout the darkest times of the COVID-19 pandemic. In this essay Claudia generously shares her beautiful account of discovering the 1-2-3 Move dance party. You are invited to visit and enjoy more of Claudia’s writing and expertise on her website.

Dancing Through the Dark

When I log on to my computer just after lunch, the dance has already begun. Bodies sway and bounce to the beat all across the checkerboard tiles that fill my screen. The instructor smiles and shimmies from her own makeshift dance floor, while others move in their bedrooms, their kitchens, their offices, and on their porches. First there are 40 and then 120 and finally more than 200 people logged on from all over the world, here to share in this strange and lovely stay-at-home pandemic dance party.

I’ve come to this class to learn more about healthy movement. I’ve read about Esther Gokhale for years and am eager to learn more about living in a body with strength and ease. It’s the dance, though, that intrigues me most. I suppose you’d say I’m a closet dancer, happy to turn up the music on my own when life feels like it’s ready to burst out of my bones, but puritanically shy about dancing with others.

I scroll through the Zoom screens like a voyeur. I see a mother dancing with children. I see an older man exercising with weights while swaying to the beat. I spy a grey-haired woman who looks so very familiar dancing in her kitchen and an older couple in their living room who seem to move as one. My eyes land on a tall fellow dancing alone with such élan that he must have been a samba dancer in a former life.

I close my bedroom door, turn up the volume, and begin to dance. Shyly, at first, but curious. My feet tap. My shoulders sway. And then I begin to let the music carry me, growing bolder in my movements. I skip. I spin. I sing. My brain grows quiet, my body leads the way and my spirit begins to lift. For the first time in a long while, I smile.

Our free-form, no-rules dance party lasts 15 minutes, and then Esther guides us through the day’s movement principle. She explains why strong muscles support a healthy back, she shows us images of healthy bodies with long and spacious spines, and she offers up a few movements that can cultivate ease and stability in the body. Then the music returns and we strengthen our muscles again on our virtual dance floor.

“ She shows us images of healthy bodies with long and spacious spines…”

I’ve tried this class on a whim. The world feels so claustrophobic right now, with winter darkness settling in like a shroud and the pandemic driving us all to our knees. I walk, I meditate, I practice yoga and qigong, but still my footing feels unsteady and my fears are vast. I’ll try anything to keep my heart afloat through the dark tunnel of winter ahead and into next year’s promised summer sun. Dancing suddenly seems like a not-so-crazy way to shake off our sorrows and perk up our souls.

And strangely, it works. After my first class I find myself moving lightly through the house, a little more chipper and cheery than I’ve felt in months. My body feels refreshed and renewed. My spine feels longer. My legs feel steadier. The troubles of the world seem a little less difficult to carry. My shoulders feel more willing to bear life’s heavy load. 

And so I return the following day. And the next, and the next. In short order my lunchtime dance party becomes a bright light and an anchor to my days. You could say I’m hooked.

“ I am so thankful for my fellow dancers…”

I keep my computer camera turned off because I’m still a little shy about this unlikely COVID survival strategy. But I am so thankful for my fellow dancers who keep their screens on as the music plays. They fill me with a sense of community and shared movement. I follow their leads and imitate their moves. I learn their names and begin to recognize them by their trademark footwork and signature shoulder shimmies. 

My dance partners and I have never met in person, and likely never will, but I feel such kinship with these lovely souls who show up with me, day after day, to shake off the world’s heaviness and reclaim our freedom and light. Dancing alone just wouldn’t feel the same.

This happens every single day. At 12:45pm I leave my kids to their algebra and American history and walk away from the work of the day. I slip upstairs to my bedroom and log on to my computer to dance. I leave my COVID thoughts at the door and let the rhythm of the music transport me to a clean and wide-open space. I stomp my feel and flail my arms and for a little while, at least, forget about masks and stay-at-home orders and the latest round of test results. I feel like a kid again, as light and carefree as I was so long ago when I sashayed around the house and carved out cartwheels in the summer sun.

“Shaking off our sorrows and shimmying to our unlikely delights…”

In these moments, dancing seems like the most natural way to keep life flowing even when the outer world comes to an icy standstill. Every once in a while in my body I catch a glimmering of a whirling dervish or an Indian dakini or a child stomping through the mud. Occasionally I even slip into a place of utter absorption where my sense of self melts away entirely into the greater flow of life. In these moments my bones tell me that the secret to this strange time is to keep moving to the beat, whatever it takes, refusing to let life freeze us in our tracks.

Our daily dance parties aren’t going to make COVID disappear or keep the hospitals from overflowing with patients. They aren’t going to cure hunger or cancer or racism or global warming. We could do worse, though, in this strange and lonely time, than to strengthen our bodies and our souls, to cut loose every once in a while and turn again toward joy.

We show up with whole body and unfettered heart. We swing to the rhythm of the beat, shaking off our sorrows and shimmying to our unlikely delights. We strengthen our spines and our lungs. And then we carry our fancy footwork and unburdened hearts back out into the larger world to cast a little light into the darkness so that others, too, may find their way to the dance.

The single focus of many back pain interventions can be described as a “one-trick pony.” Image courtesy Nikki Jeffrey on Unsplash.

Many back pain interventions could be described as having a single, dominant approach: cortisone injections into inflamed tissue, insertion of acupuncture needles to open flow in meridians, “adjustments,” medications for reducing pain, etc. Of course, each of these interventions has complexity and nuance in theory and practice, but the vast majority of existing interventions have a single focus. To put it somewhat crassly, they could be described as one-trick ponies. And I’ve wondered if this is perhaps related to why most approaches to back pain are so ineffectual (see data on HealthOutcome.org).

A three-trick pony
In our method, we’ve never been less than a 3-trick pony, the three “tricks” being intellectual, visual, and kinesthetic ways of guiding the body’s architecture and movement patterns to a more primal configuration. Does this partially account for why we are outliers in effectiveness and efficiency in helping back pain sufferers? That’s not to diminish the core insight of our program, that there is a healthier, better way to be in our bodies and that the modern day conception of the body is skewed and contributes to decline. But additionally, our multi-faceted, coordinated approach helps this diamond in the rough be accessible, persist, and bring delight.

Unlike many other back pain interventions, our “pony” has more than one “trick” in its repertoire. Image courtesy Tobias Nii Kwatei Quartey on Unsplash.

One approach to back pain that I’ve always admired is the Alexander Technique. The Alexander Technique is similar to our approach in that it works on posture and movement patterns. But it uses kinesthetic input almost exclusively. The Alexander Technique’s “one-trick” approach lacks robust use of the images we employ in our teaching, book, website, and communications. Many students and readers also experience the intellectual framework of Alexander Technique to be abstruse and inaccessible. People tell me they feel good while they’re in an Alexander Technique lesson, but they go home and have no idea how to replicate what happened in the session.

Passively viewing images or hearing theories alone doesn’t reduce pain, of course, but alongside the kinesthetic learning, they form part of a rich and textured weave Gokhale Method students take home with them. This allows students to approach the goal of reduced pain from multiple angles simultaneously. I regularly get emails from students containing posture-related images. These students have absorbed the Gokhale Method filter and carry it with them. The method takes on a life of its own. What’s more, the good feelings are replicable outside of active instruction as they go about their life exercises.

Indigenous cultures — along with non-industrialized populations and young children — are amongthe groups we look to for inspiration and the body-knowledge which informs our method. Image courtesy Jason Rojas on Unsplash.

More “tricks”
Over the past five years, we’ve added a technological trick and a research trick to our quite talented pony’s repertoire; this has expanded the range of people who have access to our work and increased students’ trust that what they are experiencing is real.

One of our difficult-to crack nuts has been how to attract alumni to Continuing Education offerings so they can integrate techniques that require repetition and practice to remain rooted in their bodies long after their initial course has concluded. In the past year, we’ve intuited our way to several additional tricks that are addressing this challenge. The new pieces include music, dance, and art in a central role. These cultural pieces have always existed in our ecosystem, but now they are part of our core Continuing Education offering. Dance, music, and art make the weave of learning and integrating so much richer and more enjoyable. Additionally, we’re discovering a sense of community and joy building in our 1-2-3 Move program. People are naturally interested in each other, and including Q&A after each session allows that community spirit to build.

Central Asia is home to rich equestrian traditions, among them horseback falconry with golden eagles, horseback archery, and horseback gymnastics. As in our method, multiple elements combine to form a complex, impressive whole. Image courtesy Lightscape on Unsplash.

We’re also recently included exercise in our programming. It’s been wonderful to be led by a knowledgeable guide in the company of dozens of people online. This makes it fun to return.

We are delighted by the response to our new directions. And as we are always adding new enrichments, there is always more to come.